“And then what?” Dwight asked.
“We’ll play it by ear—”
The very familiar pop-pop-pop of automatic gunfire crackled behind them. Allie heard them clear as day even with the windows rolled up, and so did Dwight and Reese.
“Well, fuck,” Dwight said.
“Oh well,” Reese said.
Dwight slammed on the brake and spun the steering wheel in the same fluid motion and had them turned around and flying back up the interstate in less time than it took her to see the trees blurring by outside her window. It might have looked like reckless driving to an outsider, but Allie knew better. There was, she now understood, a reason why Dwight always drove.
Allie drew the P250 and put it in her lap, while Reese did the same with his Glock just before he turned around in his seat and looked back at her. “This time, shoot to kill, understand?”
She nodded back, praying that none of the fear and doubt showed on her face. She must have succeeded, because Reese turned back around without another word. She relaxed her grip on the gun. Not too much, just enough that she could feel blood circulating through her digits again.
The van and state trooper’s vehicle came up on them faster this time because of Dwight’s speed. Vanguard’s drivers stood alertly (panicked?) on the side of the road, gripping MP5Ks that dangled from slings over their shoulders. Both men, their faces flushed with adrenaline, looked over as the Ford neared before skidding to a stop in the middle of the road next to them.
Reese had already begun to power down his window even before the Ford stopped moving, and he looked out and said to the two men with that (How is he doing that?) calm voice of his, “Get back in your vehicle, and let’s go.”
The two men nodded and ran back to the van.
There were no signs of the troopers, but when she saw the multiple jagged lines of holes painted across the windshield of the squad car, she didn’t have to wonder about where their occupants were or what shape they were in.
Dwight stepped on the gas and they were moving up the road again, as if nothing had happened. She looked around them, grateful for the lack of cars along all four lanes at the moment, because no witnesses meant no more casualties.
Except for those two bastards in the squad car.
Allie had to remind herself that she couldn’t have done anything to save them, not in the backseat of the Ford with Dwight and Reese. But knowing it and accepting what had happened were two different things, and she felt a tightness in her gut as the Ford continued to pick up speed.
She twisted in her seat and looked out the rear windshield, spotting Vanguard as it quickly caught up to them. Too quickly. “They’re coming up too fast.”
“Jacked up on adrenaline,” Dwight said.
Reese picked up the radio from the dashboard and said into it, “Vanguard, slow down. You’re too close.”
Vanguard didn’t respond over the two-way, but the vehicle started drifting back.
“Well, this is a mess,” Dwight said, and she thought he sounded slightly amused (?). “They’re not going to be happy.”
“That’s why there are contingency plans in place,” Reese said.
“Still, they’re going to be pissed about this.”
They, Allie thought. Who is they?
“It happens,” Reese said.
“Spare me the Zen bullshit,” Dwight said.
“You should try it sometime, partner.”
“Oh yeah? What’s it going to take?”
“Happy thoughts.”
“Was that a joke?” Dwight said. “Shit. Two years together, and that must be the first joke you’ve ever told.”
“You just haven’t been paying attention,” Reese said before keying the radio and saying into it, “Nest, come in.”
He didn’t have to wait long for a response: “What happened?”
Reese ignored the question and said, “Pull out of the rest stop and proceed to the alternate route.”
“What happened back there?” Nest asked again.
“Get going now,” Reese said, raising his voice slightly — not out of impatience, she realized, but rather just to remind the man on the other end of the radio who was in charge.
It worked, and Nest said, “Understood.”
“What about us?” the man from the van asked through the radio. He sounded excited, maybe even out of breath.
Definitely jacked up on adrenaline.
“You’re compromised,” Reese said. “If you stay with us, you’ll endanger the whole job. Ditch your vehicle and find another one, then proceed to the backup location and wait for further instructions.”
The two men known as Vanguard didn’t respond right away.
“Do you understand,” Reese said.
“Understood,” Vanguard finally answered.
“We’ll be in touch through the secondary method. Until then, destroy this radio and wipe your phones. You are now officially persona non grata.”
“What about our cut?”
“You’ll receive payment as usual. Nothing’s changed. As far as we’re concerned, you did your job.”
“Roger that,” Vanguard said, sounding relieved that time.
“They fucked up their job is more like it,” Dwight said when Reese put the radio back on the dashboard.
“Yes, well, they don’t have to know that,” Reese said.
The familiar sight of the black and red semitrailer appeared in front of them, slowing down just enough for Dwight to drive past and eventually take the lead once again.
It felt like a very long time before she saw one, two—three state troopers flash by on the opposite lane. They were already moving at high speeds, and she suspected the only thing keeping them from going even faster were civilian vehicles that didn’t get out of their way fast enough despite their blaring sirens and flashing lights.
She followed the speeding cruisers through the rear windshield, their red and green lights vanishing one by one over a hump in the road.
Jesus, this got bad real fast.
The semi was easily visible behind them, the height of its cab looming over a station wagon moving between their vehicles. She told herself that as long as she kept Nest in sight, she could still save Sara and the others and at the same time find and rescue Faith on the other side of this nightmare.
And all she had to do to accomplish both those things was be lucky.
Be really, really lucky…
Six
“Her name’s Faith,” Lucy said, showing him a sixteen-year-old teen on the tablet. It was a high school picture, and the girl, blonde with blue eyes, had a big, bright smile on her face as she posed. “She went missing about two years ago when she was seventeen, along with her boyfriend, during a cross-country trip to visit some colleges in the east. They found the boyfriend a few weeks later, in a shallow grave about a mile from where their car was eventually located.”
Lucy swiped at the screen and Faith’s image was replaced with a body partially covered in dirt, surrounded by shrubbery. It looked like a boy, but it could have been anything given its decomposing state. Hank had seen bodies before, but the state of this one still made him physically flinch.
“There was a big manhunt,” Lucy continued. “Local, state, even the FBI. Faith is a pretty girl, and white, and she got plenty of media coverage. But it never lasts. Sooner or later, the media finds another pretty girl to focus on. Two years later and you’d be hard-pressed to find anyone who even remembers there was a big brouhaha over her.”
“I was already off the force by then,” Hank said. “But I don’t remember seeing it on the news.”